Just Another Weasley
by Joltz
Summary: Ron's sorting. Was he truly meant to be a Gryffindor?


The hat fell over Ron Weasley's eyes, and there was darkness. Briefly he wondered what happened in between the time the hat was placed on your head and the time it sorted you out. How did it know where to put you?   
  
'Another Weasley, eh?' Said a voice in his ear, making him start violently.  
  
"Uh...yes..."  
  
'What are you, the fifth child? Forgive an old hat for not remembering, but with so many children each year it's hard to keep track of family lines.'  
  
"Erm...sixth, actually. Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George, then me, then Ginny next year."   
  
'Oh yes, Fred *and* George. Sadistic little cretins, they were.'  
  
Ron grinned inwardly. "Still are."  
  
'I don't doubt it,' The hat said, sniffing in a most un-hatlike way. 'I still have nightmares about their sorting. Took nearly ten minutes each to pick a house with all their smart-mouthed jabbering.'  
  
Ron considered asking how a hat could have nightmares, but decided it best not to.  
  
'Of course, this is your sorting now, so lets get to it.' The hat was silent for a minute, before it snorted in Ron's ear. 'Bloody obvious who influenced your childhood the most. Your pretty much a melting pot of Fred, George, and Percy.'  
  
"Er...is that a bad thing?"  
  
'No, it's inevitable. But you'd think it would make it easier to sort you.'  
  
"Aren't I a Gryffindor like the rest?"   
  
'Shh, boy, your interrupting the process. Now, let's see.... your aren't a Ravenclaw. Your thirst for knowledge is very meager. You're loyal, but you avoid hard work like the plague, so Hufflepuff wouldn't be the best for you.'  
  
"Gryffindor, then." Ron thought proudly.  
  
'Well, you *are* brave. That's undeniable. But have you forgotten the fourth and final house?'  
  
"Slytherin?" It was an incredulous thought.  
  
'Spot on. You are very ambitious, Ron. You want to be different than your brothers, you want to be better. You have a malicious side that, however well hidden, will appear at the worst of times. Your cunning could use a bit of work, but seven years in a dorm with young Mr. Malfoy should make you a scheming sneak in no time flat. Yes, I'd have to say that the best house for you is S-'  
  
"No!" Ron howled, interrupting the beginning of the shout. "No no no! Not Slytherin!"  
  
'My dear boy, you are trying my patience.' The hat snapped, 'Slytherin is the right house for you. It's all here in your head.'  
  
"But I'm not a dark wizard!" He wailed.  
  
'I never said you were. Nobody ever said you were. Believe it or not, Slytherin is not synonymous with dark wizard.' The hat spoke in sharp tones. 'Slytherins start out as hopeful pre-teens, just like you, just like your brothers, just like everybody else who passes through this school. Slytherins start out the same.' The hat suddenly sagged, the brim sliding down a bit lower until it bumped Ron's nose. It was silent for a moment, and Ron fidgeted.   
  
'But some,' it began in surprisingly ragged tone, 'some come here damaged. Taught to hate. And some just have nowhere else to turn. They are shunned, then they become bitter, and pass that bitter hate to their children, and the hate just gets worse and worse and the generations pass. It's a vicious cycle. But they're still all children, and their choices are their own. And it's not the house that makes the dark wizard, it's the choices one makes. Now, what do you say boy?'  
  
Ron imagined the green and silver sash adorning his waist. The disgust in his brother's eyes. The shame his parents would feel. The dark mark, silver and green and glittering, shooting into the sky, coming from his wand.   
  
"Not Slytherin." He repeated.  
  
'Have it your way,' The hat said, it's tone bitter. 'It's a shame, but I suppose I was right. You *are* another Weasley. Just another Weasley to join the masses.' And before Ron could question what the hat meant, it was screaming "GRYFFINDOR!"  
  
Ron felt slightly sick as he made his way over to the table, Fred and George pounding on his back as he passed and Percy clasping his shoulder affectionately as he sat down next to Harry. He managed to grin weakly at his friend, but the words 'Just another Weasley' were still echoing in his head.   
  
Helping himself to some mashed potatoes, he couldn't help but smirk as Harry piled his plate high with everything he could reach. Well, he did look underfed. Hogwarts would be good for him. Ron considered telling Harry what the hat had said, but then thought better of it as another image of himself conjuring the dark mark filled his mind. Damn it, if only he hadn't told Harry all that bad stuff about Slytherin wizards and witches, then maybe he'd understand. But it would be okay. He was in Gryffindor now, after all. And he could still be great. He would not be just another Weasley.   
  
His eyes traveled over to Fred and George, who were joking around with anyone who would listen, basking in the attention. Percy, shining his prefect badge and chatting with Hermione Granger. He remembered Charlie's trophies and the look of pride on his mother's face when she recalled how Bill was made head boy. Then he looked at his own shaggy robes, his old wand, and the glinting red and gold sash around his waist.  
  
Dammit.  
  
He should have been a Slytherin. 


End file.
